MARIANNE WAS THINKING that she didn't really want to resist this cute guy from New York City. Besides, she was safe inside the bar on M Street. What could go wrong in here? What could anybody try to pull? Play a New Kids on the Block tune on the jukebox?
'I don't much like the spotlight,' he was saying, leading her toward the back of the bar.
'You think you're another Tom Cruise, don't you? Does that big smile of yours always work? Get you what you want?' she asked.
She was smiling too, though, daring him to bring his best moves.
'I don't know, M.M. Sometimes it works okay, I guess.'
Then he kissed her in the semidarkened hallway at the back of the bar, and the kiss was as good as Marianne could have hoped, kind of sweet actually. Definitely more on the romantic side than she'd expected. He didn't try to cop a feel along with the kiss, which might have been all right with her, but this was better.
' Whooo.' She exhaled and waved a hand in front of her face like a fan. It was a joke, only not totally a joke.
'It is a little hot in here, isn't it?' Sullivan said, and the coed's smile blossomed again. 'A little close, don't you think?'
'Sorry – I'm not leaving with you. This isn't even a date.'
'I understand,' he said. 'Never thought you would leave with me. Never crossed my mind.'
'Of course not. You're too much of a gentleman.'
He kissed her again, and the kiss was deeper. Marianne liked that he didn't give up too easily. It didn't matter, though – she wasn't going anywhere with him. She didn't do that, not ever – well, not so far anyway
'You are a pretty good kisser,' she said. 'I'll give you that.'
'You're holding up your end,' he said. 'You're a great kisser actually. That was the best kiss of my life,' he kidded.
Sullivan pushed his weight against a door – and suddenly they were stumbling inside the men's room. Then Jimmy Hats stepped up to watch the door from the outside. He always had the Butcher's back.
'No, no, no,' Marianne said, but she couldn't keep from laughing at what had just happened. The men's room? This was pretty funny. Crazy funny – but funny. The kind of stuff college kids did.
'You really think you can get away with anything, don't you?' she asked him.
'The answer is yes. I pretty much do what 1 want, Marianne.'
And suddenly he had a scalpel out, the gleaming razor-sharp blade not far from her throat, and everything changed in a heartbeat. 'And you're right, this isn't a date. Now don't say a word, Marianne, or it will be your last on this earth, I swear on my mother's eyes.'
Chapter 6
'THERE'S ALREADY BLOOD on this scalpel,' the Butcher said in a throaty whisper meant to scare her out of her wits. 'You see it?'
Then he touched his jeans at the crotch. 'Now this blade won't hurt so much.' He brandished the scalpel in front of her eyes. 'But this one will hurt a lot. Disfigure your pretty face for life. I'm not kidding around, college girl.'
He unzipped his jeans and pressed the scalpel against Marianne Riley's throat – but he didn't cut her. He lifted up her skirt, then pulled aside her blue panties.
He said, 'I don't want to cut you. You can tell that, can't you?'
She could barely speak. 'I don't know.'
'You have my word on it, Marianne.'
Then he pushed himself inside the college girl slowly, so as not to hurt her with a thrust. He knew he shouldn't spend a lot of time here, but he didn't want to give up her tight insides. Hell, I'll never see Marianne, Marianne after tonight.
At least she was smart enough not to scream or try to fight him with her knees or nails. When he was finished with his business he showed her a couple of photographs he carried around. Just to be sure she understood her situation, understood it perfectly.
'1 took these pictures myself. Look at the pictures, Marianne. Now, you must never speak of tonight. Not to anyone, but especially not to the police. You understand?'
She nodded without looking at him.
'I need you to speak the words, little girl. I need you to look at me, painful as that might be.'
'Understood,' she said. 'I'll never tell anybody.'
'Look at me.'
Her eyes met his, and the change in her was amazing. He saw fear and hatred, and it was something he enjoyed. It was a long story why, a growing-up-in-Brooklyn story, a father-and-son tale that he preferred to keep to himself.
'Good girl. Strange to say – I like you. What I mean is, I have affection for you. Good-bye, Marianne, Marianne.'
Before leaving the bathroom, he searched through her purse and took her wallet. 'Insurance,' he said. 'Don't talk to anybody.'
Then the Butcher opened the door and left. Marianne Riley let herself collapse to the bathroom floor, shaking all over. She would never forget what had just happened – especially those horrifying photographs.
Chapter 7
'WHO'S UP SO EARLY in the morning? Well, my goodness, look who it is. Do I see Damon Cross? Do I spy Janelle Cross?'
Nana Mama arrived promptly at six thirty to look after the kids, as she did every weekday morning. When she burst through the kitchen door, I was spoon-feeding oatmeal to Damon, while Maria burped Jannie. Jannie was crying again, poor little sick girl.
'Same children who were up in the middle of the night,' I told my grandmother as I aimed a brimming spoon of gruel in the general direction of Damon's twisting mouth.
'Damon can do that himself,' Nana said, huffing as she put down her bundle on the kitchen counter.
It looked as if she had brought hot biscuits and – could it possibly be? – homemade peach jam. Plus her usual assortment of books for the day. Blueberries for Sal, The Gift of the Magi, Goodnight Moon.
I said to Damon, 'Nana says you can feed yourself, buddy. You holding out on me?'
'Damon, take your spoon,' she said.
And, of course, he did. Nobody goes up against Nana Mama.
'Curse you,' I said to her, and took a biscuit. Praise the Lord, a hot biscuit! Then came a slow, delicious taste of heaven on this earth. 'Bless you, old woman. Bless you.'
Maria said, 'Alex doesn't listen too well these days, Nana. He's too busy with his ongoing murder investigations. I told him that Damon is feeding himself. Most of the time anyway. When he's not feeding the walls and ceiling.'
Nana nodded. 'Feeding himself all of the time. Unless the boy wants to go hungry. You want to go hungry, Damon? No, of course you don't, baby.'
Maria began to gather together her papers for the day. Last night she'd still been laboring in the kitchen after midnight. She was a social worker for the city, with a caseload from hell. She grabbed a violet scarf off the hook by the back door, along with her favorite hat, to go with the rest of her outfit, which was predominantly black and blue.
'I love you, Damon Cross.' She flew over and kissed our boy. 'I love you, Jannie Cross. Even after last night.'
